


Not without reason, not for a girl

by aphrodite_mine



Category: Community
Genre: Gen, Motherhood, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-24 01:58:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/629056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphrodite_mine/pseuds/aphrodite_mine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"I'm not looking for a mother figure," Britta sighed, turning away. And despite the evidence to the contrary, despite the way Britta's body went quiet when Shirley once again pressed a cool fingertip to Britta's temple, Shirley [almost] believed her.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not without reason, not for a girl

Shirley Bennett's no mathematician, but by her count, Britta is 90% skinny white-girl limbs and angles and sharp corners pressed close in a bed that -- for what it's worth -- has more than enough room for the two of them to lie, bodies still, untouching. 

She shifts, wondering if Ben (Bennett, _not_ Chang) will be stirring soon, and Britta shifts with her; hands clasped around Shirley's still-round belly, a bare leg coming up to hug Shirley's thighs. Her open mouth, pink and wet and smelling of vodka and sleep, meets Shirley's shoulder, neck, shimmying closer to mumble secrets and lies against hairline. 

(They called her, of _course_ they called her, because Shirley's the last shred of dignity and self-preservation this non-group has. They called her, in various states of intoxication. She came, of _course_ she came, rousing Andre from sleep to arrange all of her friends into seat belts and then onto blankets and couch cushions and sleeping bags. And she coo'ed and grumbled and sighed in all the prescribed places while each friend curled up and settled -- Pierce dropping off in an arm chair, Jeff sprawling on the couch like he had years of practice, Troy pressing up against Abed, Annie blinking slowly on his other side -- she'd tugged a belligerent Britta behind her, [giving Andre the second apologetic look of the night,] shimmying a mini skirt down her pale legs, untying shoes and removing them from heavy feet, tucking her in despite protest and the Lord's name in vain. 

"There," Shirley said, making one final adjustment to the sticky hairs that kept pressing themselves to Britta's forehead. She saw [she knew it would happen] the muscles relax one by one starting at one very cranky forehead, settle into an approximation of sleep, Britta's lips turned up instead of down. [ _She's going to get wrinkles that way,_ Shirley had thought to her self on more than one occasion.]

"Thank you," Britta whispered, finally, sighing into the darkness of the room. 

Shirley felt this shift in the air against her bare back, re-dressing in night clothes, shivering quickly before the shirt dropped over the exposed skin. "I've got three children of my own you know. Can't be expected to drop everything and mother the lot of you anytime it feels convenient. Can't be expected to pick up the slack where a little bit of planning or self-control might have done just as well." She turned down her side of the bed, sat down heavily, pausing to shoot a not-frustrated-enough glare in Britta's direction.

"I'm not looking for a mother figure," Britta sighed, turning away. And despite the evidence to the contrary, despite the way Britta's body went quiet when Shirley once again pressed a cool fingertip to Britta's temple, Shirley [almost] believed her.)

It's nice, Shirley decides against internal protest, to feel needed. Even if the one doing the needing is in serious need of a shower and a tooth brush.

She'll lay here a while longer. She's sure Britta needs the rest.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Gabrielle Aplin's "Liar and the Lighter"


End file.
